Haydn's life at Eisenstadt, as it was at Esterhaz, to which Prince Nicolaus and his household removed in 1766, was one of almost complete seclusion from the outer world and of unflagging work. The quantity of music he wrote was enormous and the rapidity with which he poured it forth was astonishing. At Esterhaz he was obliged to provide for two operatic performances and for one or two formal concerts each week, in addition to the daily music. It was here that Haydn wrote nearly all his operas, the greater number of his arias and songs, and the bulk of his orchestral and chamber music. The vast quantity of music he wrote and the rapidity with which he produced it has given rise to the belief that he composed quickly; but such was not the case. His work was always carefully thought out, and whenever an idea occurred to him that he thought of musical value and worth elaborating, he pondered long over it and only began to write it out finally after he was, as he said, "fully convinced that it was as it should be." He was now in receipt of a salary of one thousand florins, or about five hundred dollars, and it is stated that he nearly doubled this by the sale of his compositions. His operas, of which he was specially fond, brought him the least profit. The extravagance of his wife, however, kept him constantly embarrassed in his money affairs, and an attachment he formed for one of the singers in the chapel, Luigia Polzelli, did not mend matters.

SILHOUETTE OF HAYDN.

Probably suggested by the miniature portrait

For the rest, the story of Haydn's life is little else than a catalogue of his works. From 1766, the year in which he became, by the death of Werner, the head of the Esterhazy Capelle, to 1790, the year of his first visit to London, nearly a quarter of a century, was the most fruitful period of his musical career. His greatest works, however, were yet to be written. Though he was already famous, he was not permitted to hold his position unassailed, and many and violent were the attacks upon him for his innovations and his disdain for pedagogic rules, by the critics of the older and more conservative school. Honors, nevertheless, began to pour in on him. The Philharmonic Society of Modena elected him a member in 1780. In 1784, Prince Henry of Prussia sent him a gold medal and his portrait in return for six quartets dedicated to him. In 1787, King Frederick William II. gave him a diamond ring as a recognition of his merit as a composer. In the meanwhile, in 1785, he received a commission to compose the "Seven Last Words of Christ" for the Cathedral of Cadiz, a fact which evidences how far his reputation had travelled from the solitude of Esterhaz. In the period named, he had written eight masses including the famous "Mariazell" mass in C, and the great "Cecilia" mass, the largest and most difficult of all his works in this kind, and now only performed in a condensed form. Within the same period he wrote sixty-three symphonies, most of which are in his earlier style, though a steady progress is shown toward the master symphonies he wrote for the London concerts.

During his residence at Esterhaz he wrote over forty quartets, and these were, up to the time of his departure for London, his greatest achievements. It was in these that he became the originator of modern chamber music and led the way to both Mozart and Beethoven. His clavier music still was under the influence of Emanuel Bach, though the twenty-eight sonatas that belong to this period, in freedom, melody and clearness are far in advance of anything that had been previously achieved. Seventeen clavier trios are also the product of this period and are still full of charm. He did not begin to write songs until he was nearly fifty years old, and the twenty-four he composed at Esterhaz were by no means of marked value. His part-songs were of a better order, but his canons were best of all, and may be still heard with pleasure.

It was during his stay at Esterhaz that his friendship for Mozart developed; and never was one great genius more cordially or sincerely admired by another than was Mozart by Haydn; and so frank was his recognition of the younger composer's worth, that he was fond of declaring that he never heard one of Mozart's compositions without learning something from it. He pronounced Mozart "the greatest composer in the world," and affirmed that if he had written nothing but his violin quartets and the "Requiem" he would have done enough to insure his immortality. The personal friendship between the two masters was a tender one and like that of father and son. On the eve of Haydn's departure for London Mozart was deeply moved and lamented their separation. With tears in his eyes he said to Haydn, "We shall never see each other again on earth," a prophecy that was only too literally fulfilled. When Haydn, then in London, heard of Mozart's death he grieved over it bitterly and with tears, and he wrote to a friend that his joy of returning home would be gloomy because he should not be greeted by the great Mozart.

It was in 1787 that Haydn received an urgent invitation from Cramer, the violinist, to visit London, but without any favorable results. Salomon took more practical measures, and in 1789 sent Bland, the music publisher, to try what personal persuasion could effect. It achieved nothing at this time, and Bland was obliged to return and to inform Salomon of the failure of the scheme. Haydn would not leave his "well-beloved Prince," but "wished to live and die with him." In a favorable hour for musical art, Prince Nicolaus died after a brief illness, in 1790. Haydn was in despair and mourned him devotedly. The Prince testified to his appreciation of the faithful services of his devoted Capellmeister by leaving him an annual pension of one thousand florins, on the condition that he consented to retain the title of Capellmeister to the Esterhazys. The Prince must have known that the Capelle would be dismissed by Prince Anton, his successor, whose taste for music was very slight. He discharged all the musicians except the wind band, which was retained to perform at banquets and other ceremonials. Prince Anton nevertheless was not unkind to those he dismissed, for he gave them gratuities and added four hundred florins to the pension of Haydn.

From this moment, Haydn was for the first time his own master, free to go whither he would. His fame, which was world-wide, assured him a warm welcome, no heed in what capital he might take up his residence, and his pensions and his savings secured him from all fear for the comfort of his declining years. He was now fifty-eight years of age. He took up his abode in Vienna and soon received an invitation to become Capellmeister to Count Grassalcovics. This he declined; but one day shortly after, he received a visit from a stranger who announced himself as Salomon of London, and was determined to take Haydn there will he nil he. Haydn resisted for a time, but at last all was arranged favorably to Salomon, who, by the way, was a famous violinist and conductor who was the projector of some prominent London subscription concerts. The terms which were agreed upon were as follows: Haydn was to have for one season: £300 for an opera for Gallini, the owner and manager of the King's Theatre in Drury Lane; £300 for six symphonies and £200 additional for the copyright of them; £200 for twenty new compositions to be produced by Haydn at a like number of concerts, and £200 guaranteed as the proceeds of a benefit concert for him, £1,200 in all, or 12,000 florins. His travelling expenses were paid by himself with the assistance of a loan of 450 florins from the Prince. He left Vienna with Salomon on the 15th of December, 1790, and arrived on English soil on the 1st of January, 1791. His reception in London was enthusiastic. Noblemen and ambassadors called on him; he was overwhelmed with invitations from the highest society and distinguished artists hastened to pay him homage. The musical societies fought for his presence at their performances, his symphonies and quartets were played, his cantata "Ariadne à Naxos" was sung by the celebrated Pachierotto and the newspapers vied with each other in honoring him.

The first of his six symphonies composed for Salomon was played March 11, 1791, at the Hanover Square Rooms, the composer conducting it at the pianoforte. The orchestra, led by Salomon, consisted of nearly forty performers. The work was received with a storm of applause and the Adagio was encored,—a rare event in that day. The other symphonies were no less successful, and were the finest works in their kind that Haydn had written up to that time. His benefit, which took place in May, was guaranteed to net him £200 but it produced for him £350. He was fêted constantly and enthusiasm attended him wherever he went. Oxford conferred on him the honorary degree of Doctor of Music during the Oxford Commemoration, an important feature of which was three concerts. At the second of these, Haydn's "Oxford" symphony was performed, Haydn giving the tempi at the organ. At the third concert he appeared in his Doctor's gown amid the wildest plaudits. He was the guest of the Prince of Wales for three days, and at a concert given all the music was of Haydn's composition, and the Prince of Wales played the 'cello. In the meantime Salomon made a new contract with him which prevented him from complying with a recall from Prince Esterhazy, to give his services in a grand fête for the Emperor. He gave many lessons at his own price. Among his pupils was the widow of the Queen's music master, Mrs. Schroeder. Haydn's susceptibilities were again touched, and though his pupil was over sixty, he said afterward: "Had I been free I certainly should have married her." To her he dedicated three clavier trios. He quitted London in June, 1792, and when he reached Bonn, Beethoven called on him for his opinion of a cantata. At Frankfort Haydn met Prince Anton at the coronation of the Emperor Francis II. At last he reached Vienna, where he was welcomed with wild enthusiasm and there was the greatest eagerness to hear his great London symphonies. Did Haydn at this triumphant moment recall the homeless young man who wandered through the streets of the city on a November evening forty-three years ago, penniless and despairing, and hopeless regarding his future prospects?